Histrionia
by Hanz Gewher
Summary: Kurutta is a Ghoul. And a crazy one at that. He's an old friend of Tsukiyama, and they're both rather...expressive...about their tastes. Read on as Kurutta becomes embroiled in communities of Ghouls, in a doomsday plan, and a cup of coffee. And maybe, just maybe, he could find something that he has forgotten. Family.
1. Insanity

Prologue : Insanity

 _"Insanity is relevant. It depends on who has who locked in what cage."_

Kurutta Wahnsiing watched as the two actors raised their plastic swords and pretended to duel. Pathetic. It's obvious that they are not skilled in the art of drama.

"This is disappointing", he said bitterly,"I deserve better than this. They cannot even satisfy me. A man with simple tastes. _Pah!"_

He stood up quickly and left the theatre. The moon shone silently on the cold, dreary streets. Prowling in the shadows, Kurutta took a mask from his pocket and fixed it onto his face. The mask was made in the shape of a comedy/tragedy mask, painted black and white. He watched his prey, one of the actors, and followed him into an alley. The man had stopped and was looking at his phone, cursing to himself.

" _Goddamn you! I made that payment, you little shit!"_

Kurutta strode grandly behind the man. The man turned around and, looking delirious, shouted in a panicked voice.

"W-who are you!? Why are you behind me?!"

Kurutta smiled underneath his mask.

" _I am Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look upon my works..."_

A red mist gathered around his shoulder blades, forming raven-like wings.

 _"...And despair."_

 _A/N:_ Ayo, readers! The name's Hanz. I will be your author today. This is my first fanfic, and also one of my first published works. I'll accept anyone's opinion, unless you're insulting me for the sake of it, in which case I will meme the shit out of you. Anywho, Auf Wiedersehen, mein kamerads.


	2. ComedyTragedy

Chapter 1 : Comedy/Tragedy

The alarm went off.

 _BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!_ Kurutta sat bolt upright in his bed. He got up, dressed in his usual yellow and red suit and kicked open his door. Utsuku Wahnsiing, his sister and personal mask-maker, was sat on her usual wooden stool, sewing something. As usual, the only source of light was a small salt lamp on her messy, material covered table. Her undercut blonde hair was as slick as ever, and when she saw him she simply gave a grunt as he passed. Kurutta perused the shelves at the end of the room, finally settling on a small, leather bound blue notebook containing dozens of poems. He set out onto the now busy and industrious streets of Tokyo. He stood there for a moment, taking in the landscape. The air was slightly stifling, but there was a welcome chill in it.

The tiny bell by the door rang as a familiar purple-haired man stepped into the cosy café.

"I knew I'd find you here, Wahnsiing. I heard you were back in town. _Bienvenue en Tokyo, mon ami."_

Tsukiyama sat down in front of Kurutta, who was sifting through poems, bored and waiting for something like this to happen.

" _Gutentag, mein güt freund._ It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

Tsukiyama looked at him slyly, then leant in closer, whispering,

"I've found something quite interesting. A new taste. And _Oh! C'est magnifique!"_ Kurutta was quite intrigued. A new taste? This must be...huge...for Tsukiyama. Knowing him, as a gourmet, he'd be obsessed

"What is it, _mein freund_? Or are you keeping it a surprise? Forget it, I want an invite!"

Tsukiyama smiled, the sly look still in his eyes.

"Why, of course! You won't regret it, not one bit of it!"

Tsukiyama was smiling even more now.

"I'll be there, _mein freund._ "

The moon shone brightly once again, illuminating the grey-clad man ahead of Kurutta. He quietly spoke into his collar, to an unknown recipient.

"Suspect #051 in sight, moving to engage."

The person on the other end sounded nervous as he responded.

"Wait for backup, Bure! He's too much for one person!"

The man was about to say something, but Kurutta had dashed forward and ripped his arm off before snapping his neck. The person on the other end was speaking quickly, getting more panicked the longer he spoke. Little did he know that the grey-clad man would never answer.


	3. Deception

Kurutta stood by the flamboyant railing, sipping from a glass of blood, as the black-haired young ghoul, who was to be our meal for the night, ran from the scrapper. Madame AA was shouting encouragement rather enthusiasticly from her seat on the opposite side of the large 'dinner hall'.

"Mister SS, I presume?"

A stout man in a lime and purple three-piece suit was beside him, wearing an ornate silver mask with slits to see through. Kurutta simply nodded, eying the man curiously.

"Ah, finally. It's a pleasure to meet you, I am Mister OT."

Mister OT did a little bow then walked off, but before Kurutta could turn back to the show Mister OT beckoned him to a set of crimson and velvet doors. Kurutta reluctantly followed, activating his Kakugan and tailing OT through the doors. Once he had closed the doors behind him, he saw that OT had a gun pointed at him and a crazed look in his eyes.

"You killed my partner, you monster!"

Kurutta now saw that several other people were surrounding him, all bearing guns or rather primitive weapons like pipes or knives. Kurutta went to work immediately. He activated his Kagune and quickly flew towards a woman in a black suit to his left. He batted away the table leg she had crudely held and sliced her head in two with his ukaku. He quickly dashed, low to the ground, towards a tall man in white bearing a machete. Kurutta swiftly stood up, swinging his left wing upwards, cutting his stomach open. He dodged a gunshot from the second last person in the room before speeding towards him and breaking his arm, grabbing the gun from the air and blowiblowing a chunk of his head off. Kurutta turned towards OT and severed his shaking hands. OT fell to the ground, sweating buckets and babbling incoherently. Kurutta simply raised his ukaku, and sliced downwards, halfing Mister OT.

A/N: **Scheiße , I'm late. Even though I don't have a schedule and probably never will. Anyway, thanks for reading, Auf Wiedersehen!**


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